Shot Down
by RedLegoManiac
Summary: [WW2 One-shot] Hiccup Haddock is sent on a reconnaissance mission to scout out German operations in Denmark. ;The door opened, and a figure stood in the doorway. "Are you ready?" The young man didn't answer. Instead he held the letter from Heather over the flickering flame and let it burn in his hand, ignoring the heat of the burning paper even as it neared his fingers. Hiccstrid


Disclaimer : Dreamworks owns everything

WWII

 **Shot Down**

 _Dear Hiccup,_

 _This letter is in response to your most recent sending. It was good to hear from you again, as always, and I was ecstatic to learn of your promotion in your wing. Berk is quiet without you. I miss you, and dare I say it I miss your cousin too - to an extent. I am proud of you son, more than you can ever imagine._

 _PS: I saw Heather Oswaldson the other day, she looked nervous about seeing me._

 _Stay safe and write soon,_

 _\- Stoick_

 _Dearest Love,_

 _I am writing to you with a heavy heart. I hope one day you will forgive me, or hold some semblance of respect for me in the future._ There were dried tear stains on the paper.

 _I cannot wait any longer, My Love. I want to have a future with someone and to live without the fear of losing that someone everyday...I have been seeing another man, while you have been away. I realize that I am selfish, and for that I am sorry._

 _A Thousand Apologies,_

 _\- Heather_

A young man, nearly twenty years old with auburn hair and forest green eyes, held the small pieces of paper between his index finger and his thumb. He sighed, and looked up to the empty room around him. He checked his watch, reading eleven o'clock pm. Normally he would be in his bunk right now, sleeping quietly through the night along with the others of his wing. Normally, he'd be missing his home. Today was different. The air was damp, and dew dripped from the blades of grass outside the lounge house he was in. The night's darkness was noiseless, and the only light of the room he was in was the flickering candle before him.

He put his elbows and hands on the table, tapping the rhythm of an old tune he had heard from his mother years ago. He should feel tired, but he wasn't. He had slept the day's afternoon away.

The door opened, and a figure stood in the doorway. "Are you ready?" The young man didn't answer. Instead he held the letter from Heather over the flickering flame, and let it burn in his hand, ignoring the heat of the burning paper even as it neared his fingers.

The man standing in the door stared with wide eyes, then listened to the young man's words. "Is anyone ever ready?" Hiccup stood up, picked up the note from his father and folded it before sliding it in his left chest pocket, and sighed. "What were the survivability predictions again, Eret?"

The man standing at the door retrieved a notepad from an inside pocket of his coat and thumbed through the pages. "Uhhh… Well it's double digits." Eret said carefully. "Freddy Ingerman ran the numbers twice, and given what we know of the region so far…"

"I know." The auburn haired man replied shortly.

His high school sweetheart had just given up on him, and he couldn't find it in himself to care at the moment. He was thirty minutes away from embarking on a solo reconnaissance mission over Denmark. Hiccup clenched his fists, breathing in and out once before walking past the other man, leaving the room and entering the silent night. The two men walked down the stretch of flattened dirt they called a runway towards the hangars and the barracks.

"So...eh.. " Eret said sounding a little unsure. "Is everything alright?" He asked seeing the scowl Hiccup had adopted.

"Just…..Just some problems at home." Hiccup mumbled. "I got a letter from my girl... She wants to move on."

Eret sucked in a breath. "That's harsh, mate." He muttered.

"It's just… we were high school sweethearts and now I don't know what I'll do without her." Hiccup talked with a hand out before him, swaying his hand to emphasize his point.

Eret yawned, "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Mate." A lull in the conversation, and then he continued. "D'you think I can get a cup of tea before we leave?"

Hiccup sighed. "I don't understand you Brits and your tea."

The British man gasped in shock as he placed a hand over his heart. "Oh you wound me, Haddock." They heard the sounds of boots running towards them, and looking back they saw a figure approaching quickly.

"Haddock, Eretson. You two are to report to the briefing room immediately. Further instruction will be delivered there." The figure, an eighteen year old private, said, saluted, then ran off. After sharing a glance, they walked in silence towards the briefing room.

Freddy Ingerman was there, being the top analyst on base, and likely the smartest man there besides Hiccup. "Evening, Haddock and Eretson."

"Evening." They responded together. Hiccup took a seat, resting his head on an open palm as he leaned slightly onto the armrest while Eret stood at the edge of the room. It was cold in the room, and the ceiling lamp that hung by the wire swung slowly.

Freddy Ingerman clasped his hands together. "Right, so you both know your flight paths?" The two pilots nodded, and Hiccup stood up, glancing at Eret.

"I'm ready if you are." He said, to which Eret nodded, and Freddy spoke up.

"Great! I-uh, I'll let traffic control know you're leaving." The analyst left the room, leaving Hiccup and Eret together once again. Ten minutes later the two pilots, with Hiccup piloting a Lockheed P38-G Lightning painted a dark navy blue with black stripes, and Eret piloting a stock model of a Supermarine Spitfire MkVb, made their way onto the airstrip to take off into the early dawn's dark sky.

"Traffic Control this is Night Fury 1-1, ready for take-off."

"Copy that Night Fury, you are clear for take off."

The twin engined plane slowly crept down the runway, extending the plane's control flaps to takeoff position and pushed the throttle lever forward, increasing speed in a rumbling crescendo. After a few moments, Hiccup lifted off the ground, and he flicked the switch for the internal cockpit light on, as well as flicking the switch for the landing gear to retract. Eret took off shortly behind him, taking up a spot on his right around 20-40 meters away to give the larger aircraft room to maneuver.

Hiccup leaned his head to the edge of the cockpit glass, to see where his wing-mate had ended up, and saw him wave in his own cockpit. He waved back, and smiled softly.

Hopefully there wouldn't be any problems with this early morning flight.

Stars twinkled above them, and Hiccup notified Eret that he was turning his light off. It was times like these that he loved about being a pilot. Just, to be able to experience the sight of stars and sometimes the planets much closer than anyone else in the world. He sighed, and wished the war to be over. He wished to be home. He reached forward, a grabbed a photo that was lodged by the edge of a screw that helped secure the compass' covering.

He snorted, remembering what he had said to Heather when she had sent him the photo of them together. " _I'm going to put this next to my compass, so that I will always know how to find home."_

He sighed, and felt the small ache of his heart tug at his feelings. No. Not now. He can cry when the war is over. He took his feet off the rudder pedals, and halfway stood up in his cockpit in an attempt to stretch his legs. In the distance he saw large masses of clouds, and above those clouds he saw flashes of white light.

He clicked on his radio. "Haddock to Eretson, how copy?"

Eret's british voice was barely louder than the white noise of the radio. "Solid copy, go for it."

"Looks like we have a storm coming up."

"Uh-huh, yeah I see it too, Mate." There was static, and then he spoke again. "We're about a kilometer from where I need to turn around."

"Copy that, Eretson, I'll be fine from here. Drinks are on me when I get back."

The british man's laugh came over the radio, "Godspeed Haddock, I'll hold you to that drink." Hiccup looked to the side to see the British fighter plane dip down before rolling to one side and turning around to return to the airfield.

Hiccup pulled the flight stick towards him, and the plane began to climb upwards into the clouds. Pelting rain and thundering lightning did not worry him, he had flown through storms before. This is like any other storm, he reminded himself. There'll be pockets of clear sky here and there. He was glad he was in a larger plane, since the turbulence didn't affect him as much.

He flew alone across the Channel, making his way to mainland Europe, and from there he'd be flying towards Denmark. He had been tasked with taking pictures of cities and manufacturing complexes, but because it is dark and the moon cannot shine through rumbling clouds, Hiccup feared that his mission would be doomed a failure.

Lightning flashed before him, illuminating the skies and the ground to his south. When he saw land, he was supposed to head East, so after checking the compass, he rolled to his left and banked in a wide turn to conserve speed before aligning himself to the horizon when the compass dial rested on North East. He stayed within sight of the coastline, however the only sight he had of the coastline was when lightning flashed around him. Thunder rumbled louder than the engines on either side of him. He looked out over his right wing, watching freezing rain slide across the side of the cockpit.

Looking forward once again he saw an opening in the dark clouds, and after pulling the flight stick this way and that he maneuvered toward it. Hiccup took his hands off the controls, letting the plane fly itself since he was out of the clouds, and stretched. After a breathy sigh he popped his knuckles and reached down under the main console for a pair of wool gloves and a thick scarf.

The temperature was dropping, and the standard issue wool insulated leather jacket wasn't helping as much as it should. Hiccup retrieved the small pieces of clothing from the net-sack that was tied to additional screws going into the console and placed the gloves on his lap while loosely wrapping his neck in the scarf. He picked up the gloves and slid them onto his hands, and flexed his fingers to get used to the additional movement for the stiff finger sections.

Even in the darkness he saw the cloud of breath as he exhaled. Since he was the designated reconnaissance pilot, the plane mechanics suggested that they take off as much weight as possible to make him faster and lighter. Unfortunately, this meant removing the cockpit heating system. He looked at the altimeter, and saw that he was at seven thousand meters above the ground. The moon made an appearance soon after, shining down it's dusk rays on the ground. Hiccup looked up, really hoping someone on the ground didn't see a black dot move across the white moon. He was fully above ground now, having flown inland from the coastline.

It was a quiet night, and the rumbling engines beside him almost lulled him to sleep, but unfortunately, he was jolted awake at the sight of green traces of light flying over him. Hiccup cursed, punching the throttle forward and looking back to see two black lines with circles. Orange and white muzzle flashes made Hiccup duck into his seat. Bullets flew around him, luckily not hitting the plane.

He lowered the plane's nose, hoping to lose them when he converted his altitude to speed. Hiccup looked back again, seeing the two hostile planes gaining on him, and when he turned around he realized there was a third plane in front of him. He rolled, using his elevators and ailerons to barrel roll out of the way of the incoming spray of bullets.

He heard and felt several thumps, looking out over his left wing he realized that he had been hit. There were holes punched out of his wing, and Hiccup narrowed his eyes in frustration. Of course there would be a German air patrol at night.

Hiccup rolled to the left, and dove in an attempt break the enemy pilots' sight of him. He looked up, and saw the rectangular wings of the enemy planes continue in a straight line before the lead plane banked left, and the second plane followed soon after. It was a three versus one scenario.

It'd be near impossible for him to win.

That didn't mean Hiccup would give up. Instead, adrenaline pumped through his blood and he watched the black shape heading away from him. He maneuvered the plane so he could line up the gunsight with his target. He checked behind him quickly, realizing that he had separated this pilot from his wingmates, and adjusted the gunsight to be just before the target.

Hiccup pressed down the button to fire his machine guns, sending a salvo of red tracer bullets after the enemy plane. He saw sparks, letting him know that his bullets hit, and watched as the plane in front of him rolled to the left. Hiccup stamped down on the rudder pedal, jolting his plane to the right while pushing his flight wheel to the left. The contradicting forces made a stable line of travel for the gunsight, and Hiccup fired the guns again, this time also squeezing the trigger for the P38's cannon.

Hiccup straightened out, and dove to dodge the wing of the enemy plane that had been ripped off with gunfire. He sighed. One down, two to go. Flak exploded around him, nearly blinding him and sending shrapnel through his wings. He cursed again, and rolled the plane again when he saw a black shape approaching him quickly. Green tracers pelted the right engine, and Hiccup pulled the throttle lever all the way back to kill speed.

The hostile plane overtook him, and began to rise back into the clouds. ' _If he's in front of me, where's the other?'_ He thought, and ducked while punching the throttle forward again when green tracers flew just past the edge of the windshield from the side. Hiccup chose to go after the enemy pilot that was rising back into the early morning sky, and he looked back to see the other pilot turn towards him and unleash another volley of machine gun fire, striking the right engine again.

Hiccup extended the flaps to combat position, giving him more lift and agility, and he pulled the flight stick back and fired a salvo of cannon and machine gun fire towards the enemy in front of him. The red hot tracer hit the fuel tank of the other plane, causing it to burst into purple, orange, and red flames. He was losing speed, and the other plane was gaining on him again. In the fireball of the other plane, he recognized the shape of the fighter to be a Messerschmitt 109 fighter.

"Messershit." He laughed to himself, knowing that he wouldn't make it home. The white tracers of the cannons' behind him ripped holes close to his engine, instead clipping the underside of his wings and tearing the flaps off. His plane lurched to the right side, and Hiccup decided to roll with it. He turned the rudder to the left, to avoid a flatspin(1).

He felt his stomach rise into his chest as he dove down, going from five kilometers in the sky to two kilometers. He pulled up as hard as he could, knowing that the plane could take the stress even if he couldn't. The Messerschmitt had dove behind him as well, but pulled up much earlier than Hiccup did.

He looked forward, seeing tall trees and open fields in some places. He was alone, and he was going down. Somewhere. He was still able to choose where that may be. Hiccup peeked out from behind the seat once again, seeing lonely log cabins and larger fields. He cursed again when the messerschmitts guns tore off the tip of his left wing, and ducked when the bullets did not stop. He felt several thumps along his back, praying that the steel plate behind the seat did not fail him. He felt a sharp piercing pain in his arm and saw that he had been shot. The cockpit glass had been punched through.

Hiccup looked at the ground before him, realizing that he was way closer to it than he had thought. Trees scraped at the underside of his wings, and a tall one snagged and snapped the elevator off. "O-oh shhiiIIT!" The nose dove downwards, and he roughly pushed the lever for the flaps all the way forward. The extra lift brought his nose up. Hiccup looked to the right, to see a wing that had a multitude of holes. Hiccup shut his eyes tightly, a single tear streaming down his cheek as the wing skidded across the ground, and that finally made the rest of the plane fall to the snowy ground as well.

The straps holding Hiccup to his seat snapped, and he lurched forward, hitting his head on the leather pad under the gunsight. His head was pounding, but he was alive. That's all that mattered. Everything hurt, and with fumbling and bloodied fingers, he unlatched the cockpit hinge, and pushed as hard as he could. He was forced back into the seat by the weight of it, and he tried again, with both hands.

It gave, and swung over his head before snapping the bolts off that held it to the plane and falling to the snow. Hiccup half stood on unsteady legs, and brought one leg up and over the wall of the cockpit before stumbling and landing on his side in the cold snow.

"Pappa! Det er piloten!"(Papa! It's the pilot!) He heard, at the edge of reality. He heard the snow crunching below feet, and knew this was it. This was the end. He pushed himself to roll over, and try to stand before collapsing to his knees. A few meters away from him stood a young woman and an older man.

Hiccup's vision pulsed with white and red, but he saw a shotgun in the man's hands, and he began kicking away from them. He didn't get far however, because he hit the cold metal of his crashed airplane's tail, yet he covered his head in his arms.

The man's voice was gruff. "Amerikansk?"(American?) Hiccup froze, lowering his arms and nodded slowly. He didn't know what the extra 'sk' was at the end, but he recognized American. The man smiled, and spoke to the woman."Astrid Finder slæde, tak."(Astrid find the sled, please) The girl, Astrid, looked at him and nodded before running off into the darkness of the night.

The man slowly walked forward, and took his finger away from the shotgun's trigger. "Du er sikker."(You are safe) Hiccup blankly stared at him. "Safe." The man said, and that was when Hiccup slumped over, unconscious.

Astrid returned with the sled, and the man loaded him onto it while Astrid poked around the cockpit to see if there was anything of use. Under the seat, she felt leather, and gripped it before pulling it out from under the seat. She also noticed a photograph of the man on the sled and a dark haired woman standing together. "Kom, Astrid."(Come, Astrid) The young woman looked up, nodded, and followed along as the man tugged on the rope to the sled, dragging Hiccup back to their home.

The man pulled the sled to the edge of the patio space, and carefully moved around the pilot before lifting him and carrying him up the stairs and through the door to the cabin. Astrid then dragged the sled around the back of the house and leaned it against the wall before going inside. She saw that her father had placed the man on the floor, and had stripped his shirt off. "Hvad nu?"(What now?)

"Vi plejer ham til helbred, så du og han vil blive med dine fætre i Sverige."(We nurse him to health, and then you and him will join family in Sweden) Her father, narrowing his eyebrows as he inspected the gunshot wound.

"Hvad?"(What?) Her blue eyes went wide. "Hvad med dig?"(What about you?)

"Jeg skal blive."(I must stay) Her father kept his eyes away from her, before blinking a tear away. "Astrid, find saks og bandager."(Astrid, find the scissors and bandages) Astrid went and searched through the cabinet drawers, before finding a wooden box containing string, bandages, and needles. She passed the box to her father, and went into her bedroom.

"Jeg går tilbage til at sove, Papa."(I'm going to sleep, Papa)

"Godnat Astrid, sov godt."(Goodnight Astrid, sleep well)

* * *

Waves rocked the fishing boat, and Hiccup groaned in his sleep. Astrid's father looked out over the rest of the foggy bay, hoping they would have a smooth sailing. His daughter sat at the front of the boat, silent as a stone.

She must've been angry at him.

" _I'm doing this for you, Eliza."_

He looked down to his left, to see the American sleeping. He didn't know how the pilot was still alive after the crash. If he had slid any further he would have gone into a tree. If he had fallen any other way, he would have skidded into other trees. The bandage on his left arm was still in place, though he did not remove the bullet fragments.

Hiccup woke up slowly, feeling the slight rocking of the boat. He opened his eyes slowly, and tried to move.

He couldn't move, his body was too sore. He looked up, seeing a man at the wheel. Where was he? He gasped for air, feeling a white thrashing pain in his arm and in his chest. "Godmorgen, amerikansk."(Good morning American) He stayed silent, his eyes were wide, and slowly, he sat up, feeling muscles stretch and bones shift painfully.

"Amerikansk?"

Hiccup looked at the man. "Why am I alive?"

"..."

"Uhm… Parlez-vous français?"(Do you speak French?)Hiccup's mind was foggy, and french was the only other language he knew, aside from broken German.

The man's features brightened. "Oui."(Yes)

"Pourquoi suis-je vivant?"(Why am I alive?)

"Parce que vous êtes - Amerikansk."(Because you are… American) The man pointed at his ring finger, and Hiccup saw the ring, and then the man pointed at a US flag patch that was on Hiccup's jacket.

Oh. Hiccup made a mental deduction that his wife must have been from America.

Astrid looked back, seeing the American talking in a mixture of English, French, and Danish. Land came within sight, and she beckoned for her father to watch for sea-rocks as they entered a very small and secluded cove. Hiccup looked at the girl at the front of the boat, seeing her braided blonde hair sway as she turned. She had the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen, they reminded him of the sky, and he turned away to look behind them.

There were no words shared between them, and by how her eyes turned darker as she looked at him he presumed that she didn't like him. "Oh!" Hiccup looked towards the man, and Astrid's father retrieved a leather bound book from inside his coat. He held it out towards the American, and Hiccup looked over it, realizing that it was his journal. "Yours."

He accepted it tentatively, and opened the cover of it, finding the photo of him and Heather staring at him. He sighed, taking the photo in between fingertips and tearing it in half. The man's eyes widened in surprise. Hiccup put two hands together, making a heart shape, and split them to symbolize a broken heart, then sighed.

The man pointed at the book, and then to the girl. "She find book." He said, with a thick accent.

"Je vous remercie." (Thank you) Hiccup said. On the shoreline there were two skinny figures, dressed in brown fur coats. From what Hiccup could see, they were twins. Astrid's father cut the engine, and let them drift towards the pebbled shore.

The man explained through hand gestures and broken french that they were family that had fled Denmark before Germany invaded. He also made sure to tell him that they were crazy, and to not be shirtless around the girl-twin. Later that evening, after Astrid's father had returned to Denmark, to their little log cabin, Astrid walked carefully around her new home. For now, that is. When the war was over she fully intended on returning home.

She heard, "Me Likeeyyy," coming from the living room, and walking in there she caught sight of Hiccup's bandaged torso. The girl-twin was giggling, while the male twin was standing behind the counter, making retching noises into the wastebasket.

"Ruffnut, nok."(Ruffnut, enough.) Astrid said.

"Awe, men har du set amerikaneren?" (Awe, but have you seen the American?) Astrid sighed, secretly looking at his toned torso, and poured herself a mug of water before returning to her room.

Slowly overtime they had gotten used to the American living with them, the twins found that he was fun to mess with, and that he didn't get angry often. They had also discovered that he was a much better cook than the rest of them. Astrid thought he was handsome, and overtime they had grown closer. They often didn't share words, until he stood in the doorway of her room one evening. He looked down at a dictionary. "L-Lær d-dansk?" (Teach Danish?) Hiccup asked slowly, annunciating each syllable carefully before pointing at himself. Months passed after that night, and most of the day Astrid taught him Danish. And, while she taught him Danish he taught her the basics of English.

Hiccup sat at the table, with a pencil in hand and a paper before him. He was drawing, in the early hours of the morning, and Astrid crept up slowly behind him. She watched as the flame of the small candle flickered this way and that before she got sight of the charcoal on paper. She realized he was drawing her. She breathed silently, before resting her chin on his shoulder, simply watching his hand move. When he was done, he moved the pencil to one corner, and drew a rose, and a heart, and wrote H + A inside of the heart. She smiled, feeling a warm feeling in her chest before turning and kissing his cheek.

0o0o0o0

Annnnnnnd done. Finally. *whew* okay time to disappear again, probably. I'm also not Danish, in case anyone's wondering.

Also not sure if I'm going to go through translations again, I did them with google translate so I'm not 100% sure they're correct.

1: A flatspin is a dangerous hazard when flying. Getting stuck in a flatspin is like spinning out on thin ice for a car. Except, if you can not escape a flatspin, then you fall to the ground and blow up in your plane.


End file.
